“It's the only kind you'll get,” retorted he, trying to control his agitation. “I'm an old man. I know human nature--that's why I live alone. You'll take that kind of liking, or do without.” “Then I'll do without,” said I. “Give her an income, and she'll go. I see it all. You've flattered her vanity by showing your love for her--that's the way with women. They go crazy about themselves, and forget all about the man. Give her an income and she'll go.” “I doubt it,” said I. “And you would, if you knew her. But, even so, I shall lose her in any event. For, unless she is made independent, she'll certainly go with the last of the little money she has, the remnant of a small legacy.” The old man argued with me, the more vigorously, I suspect, because he found me resolute. When he could think of no new way of stating his case--his case against Anita--he said: “You are a fool, young man--that's clear. I wonder such a fool was ever able to get together as much property as report credits you with. But--you're the kind of fool I like.” “Then--you'll indulge my folly?” said I, smiling. He threw up his arms in a gesture of mock despair. “If you will have it so,” he replied. “I am curious about this niece of mine. I want to see her. I want to see the woman who can resist _you_.” “Her mind and her heart are closed against me,” said I. “And it is my own fault--I closed them.” “Put her out of your head,” he advised. “No woman is worth a serious man's while.” “I have few wants, few purposes,” said I. “But those few I pursue to the end. Even though she were not worth while, even though I wholly lost hope, still I'd not give her up. I couldn't--that's my nature. But--_she_ is worth while.” And I could see her, slim and graceful, the curves in her face and figure that made my heart leap, the azure sheen upon her petal-like skin, the mystery of the soul luring from her eyes. After we had arranged the business--or, rather, arranged to have it arranged through our lawyers--he walked down to the pier with me. At the gangway he gave me another searching look from head to foot--but vastly different from the inspection with which our interview had begun. “You are a devilish handsome young fellow,” said he. “Your pictures don't do you justice. And I shouldn't have believed any man could overcome in one brief sitting such a prejudice as I had against you. On second thought, I don't care to see her. She must be even below the average.” “Or far above it,” I suggested. “I suppose I'll have to ask her over to visit me,” he went on. “A fine hypocrite I'll feel.” “You can make it one of the conditions of your gift that she is not to thank you or speak of it,” said I. “I fear your face would betray us, if she ever did.” “An excellent idea!” he exclaimed. Then, as he shook hands with me in farewell: “You will win her yet--if you care to.”